


Scar Tissue

by jericho



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian misses his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

> Written circa 2000.

Brian made no secret of the fact that New York City intimidated him. He'd come from a town where people left their car doors unlocked. Even the constant traveling and numerous continents he'd visited since becoming a Backstreet Boy didn't dull the slight twang of nervousness he got from walking in New York. It had 100-floor skyscrapers that he could feel wavering above him, and faceless inhabitants who would walk by expressionless if someone grabbed him and held him at gunpoint. 

He loved London. He loved San Francisco. He loved Toronto. He even thought Los Angeles was okay. But New York was just too much. Too much of everything. Too fast, too heartless, too brutal. Too much like an episode of Starsky and Hutch, except there were no heroes in real-life New York. No good cops who pulled up to save women from muggings. Just dirty pavement, and buildings that were way too tall, and cab drivers who barely stopped the car to let you out. Just millions of people who really, truly didn't give a damn about each other. 

When they pulled into New York on the Black and Blue tour, he went walking. He wasn't supposed to go walking in New York, but he did. 

He wore a big woolen hat pulled down to his eyebrows and a warm coat with the collar pulled up. A bodyguard followed him, which annoyed Brian a little, because the point was to be by himself for awhile, and get away from the other guys long enough to clear his head. But even he knew that walking around without a bodyguard was a dumb idea, and by the time he was a block away from the hotel, and he was crossing the street with tough-talking guys wearing chains, he was thankful for the company. Especially since the sun had set behind the gray blanket of what could have been clouds or smog. 

Their hotel was on 8th Avenue, where there was no shortage of checkered cabs and people rushing by him. He got to the corner and wondered which way he should go. Which way wouldn't take him too far away from safety. So he tucked his hands in his pockets and looked at his bodyguard. "Any suggestions?" 

The bodyguard shrugged wordlessly, eyes shaded by ultra-dark glasses. He knew Brian wanted time alone. He was trying to be inconspicuous. Brian appreciated it. 

Brian sighed into the chilly air and kept walking, crossing the street when the signal beckoned him, passing people with bored faces and angry eyes. He passed a liquor store, then a camera place that boasted "One hour photo!" in evil red letters. Then a tacky tourist shop. Then another liquor store. There seemed to be more liquor stores than anything on that stretch. It made him too sad to look at them, so he stopped and pointed to a lesser traveled street. "Will we get killed if we walk down this one?" 

"Nah," the bodyguard said, his voice low and rumbling. He was from New York City, and by that point, Brian couldn't remember a time when he'd appreciated the guy's presence more. 

Now he was walking by smaller stores, and houses packed so closely together that they looked as if they would topple like dominoes if you pushed one of them. 

After a few houses, they passed a school. The bricks on the walls were dirty and aging, the basketball court next to it large but the pavement full of dents and stray rocks. It was cold, but there was no snow on the ground, and three kids were at the far end in jackets and track pants passing a ball around. 

Brian stopped and pressed his forehead against the wire fence. It was strange how the basketball court was in such bad shape, and the metal ring that doubled as a basket looked like rust would fly off if you banged it with the ball. But these kids didn't care. They made the best of it. 

He turned a little and spotted a bench. "I'm gonna sit down for a minute." 

The bodyguard hovered behind him as Brian sat down and crossed his legs. He rested his arm on the back of the bench, then brought it forward to bite his glove and yank it off with his teeth. 

One kid was little, and way too short to be good at basketball. He ran back and forth between the other two, arms waving, fingers spreading and wiggling when he grabbed at the air. He didn't look like he'd even realized that he was shorter than the other two, although he never seemed to catch the ball. Brian watched him run, his chatter mixing with the voices of his friends as they mumbled competitive words mingled in with profanity. Some of the words were quiet and incoherent and rattled across the court like stones. Others were loud and staccato, shouts to pass the ball or shoot the ball or get the f-u-c-k out of the way. 

Brian had always been relatively short for that game. He wasn't supposed to be good at basketball, but he was. He was supposed to live a life with moderate exertion, but he didn't. Most of the time, he figured he wasn't even supposed to be famous, but he was. Heck, he was supposed to be dead a couple of times over. But he hadn't died yet. 

Even as the rest of his body chilled over from the late winter air, his scar never did. It was slender across his chest, and he couldn't actually feel it there unless he touched it with his fingertips, so he figured he just imagined that it didn't get cold. Because it was scar tissue, maybe. Or because it was a place Nick had touched with his lips. 

Brian rested his chin on his hand, watching lazily, wishing for a split second that he was one of those kids. It reminded him of an MTV special where he and Nick had gone to a basketball court and played with a couple of regular guys. Brian supposed it was to show that he and Nick were normal, and liked doing normal guy things. He was fine with that, because he wanted to play a little basketball, anyway. 

But it was such an act, really, because it was far from a normal game. The regular guys were jittery because a camera was on them, and every "hey, man" and rough handshake seemed staged, like the guys had suddenly become bad actors. Brian wondered at the time if the guys even liked the Backstreet Boys, or if they'd heard one of their songs, or if they'd make fun of Brian and Nick when they walked away. But it was a chance to be on camera, and regular guys didn't pass up opportunities like that. 

Nick's hair was braided at the time. Brian secretly thought that it looked a little weird, but who was he to say? Nick was on a mission to look different, and Brian thought it was kind of cute how Nick was playing around with his appearance. Brian looked the same as he did when he was in high school, really. Aside from letting it grow a little, he even had the same hairstyle. 

Before Nick kissed his scar, it was cute to see Nick try to be different. After he kissed his scar, it just hurt. And Brian knew he wasn't supposed to care. But he did. 

The orange ball sailed by the smaller kid, who seemed to suddenly pluck it out of the air. He did a lay up - one, two strides, then a leap. And he jumped higher than Brian thought he would. The ball landed on the back of the metal ring and teetered there for a second, and Brian realized that he was holding his breath. Please God, he thought. Please let this kid get a basket. 

Then the ball fell forward, a flash of color through the rusting hoop, and bounced when it hit the ground. The smaller kid threw his arms in the air and hooted. Brian couldn't help but smile. 

"We'd better get back," the bodyguard said. 

"Okay." Brian hugged his coat closer and stood up, following the bodyguard back to 8th Ave. 

*** 

Brian hated that they were in New York a day early. The TRL appearance warranted it, though, and they couldn't turn it down. 

But the fans who had packed Times Square with huge Backstreet Boys signs were gone, and it was a free evening. Riding the elevator up to his room, bodyguard leaning against the wall next to him, Brian wondered what he was going to do with it. The other four, or some combination of them, would go clubbing. It had never really interested Brian. It wasn't that he was against clubs, but all there was to do there was drink and pick up chicks, and he'd never been much into either. He'd rather go to a pub where they could order chicken wings and tell silly jokes, but he was the only one who seemed to be interested in that. 

AJ passed him in the hallway, and Brian grabbed the opportunity. "What are you guys doing tonight?" 

"Probably Spa," AJ said. 

Spa. Brian never went to the trendy clubs, but he knew the names of all of them because of the other four. And he thought he'd seen Spa in People magazine. "Who's going?" 

"Probably me, Nick, Howie, maybe Kevin." 

AJ kept walking without asking Brian if he wanted to go. Brian was never invited anymore. He wouldn't have gone anyway, but the offer would have been nice. 

Heading down the hallway, Brian searched his mind for an excuse to go to Nick's room. Finally he thought of one and knocked at the door. 

Nick opened it, already dressed in a white shirt and baggy jeans. His hair was unkempt in that perfectly planned way, and Brian could smell the sweet cologne the second Nick answered. 

"Hey," Nick said casually, swinging open his door so Brian could come in. Brian stepped into the room and watched Nick go back to checking himself in the mirror. "What's up?" 

Brian watched Nick rearrange a strand of his hair with long, pale fingers. "You're going out?" 

"Yep." Nick grabbed his jacket off the chair and searched the left pocket, probably for money. 

"Got any CD's I could borrow?" It wasn't until it came out of his mouth that Brian realized how lame it sounded. 

"Sure." Nick took an easy step backward and reached in his shoulder bag, extracting a handful of slender jewel cases and flipping through them. "Here's one Leighanne would like." 

Brian moved closer long enough to take the CD and stepped back again. "The Dixie Chicks?" 

"Yeah. Doesn't she like them?" 

Brian traced the outline of the pink picture on the cover. "Yeah, I just didn't know you did." 

"I don't, really. I just bought it for something to do." Nick continued flipping through them, then put that stack back in the bag and came out with another. Nick's hair fell onto his forehead when he looked down. From that vantage point, with Nick facing sideways, Brian could see the fine ridge of Nick's cheekbones, and the way they seemed to be accentuated when Nick concentrated on something, probably because Nick pursed his lips. Finally Nick picked another CD and handed it to him. "This is a mixed one I burned for the road. There's stuff on there you'd like." 

"Thanks." Brian put the CD's together and watched Nick put the stack back in his bag. He knew he should leave now. His purpose here was over. "Have fun," he finally said. 

Nick smiled a little. "Thanks. We will." 

Brian turned slowly and walked out, wishing he had a reason to stay. But he didn't. He never really had. As soon as Nick got old enough to enjoy getting drunk and picking up girls, his use for Brian diminished. He didn't need someone to play video games with while the other guys went out dancing. He didn't need someone to make him feel smart and included. Nick could do that on his own now. They still acted silly, and made stupid voices and, on a good day, even wrestled a little. But it was different now. And it always would be. Brian couldn't decide if it felt like his kid had grown up or if his lover had left him. Although he knew that in reality, it was neither. 

He went back to his room, slipping out of his jacket and tugging off his hat. The static electricity made a few of his hairs stand on end, and he tossed the hat on the chair before he flopped down on the bed. He set the CD's carefully next to him and lay back, seeing a plain white ceiling with no personality or distinguishing features. It was hard and emotionless and didn't give a damn. Kind of like New York. 

He sat up and fished his Disc Man out of his backpack, setting it on the bed next to him and putting in the mixed CD. The song started with orchestra sounds, and when the singing began, it sounded like the Eagles. Brian opened the CD case and found a song list written on a piece of paper whose tattered edges showed that it was torn quickly from a notepad. The songs were written in Nick's messy handwriting. There were no artists listed, just songs. The first one was "New York Minute." 

Brian lay back on the bed again, letting his fingertips drift across his stomach. Yeah, it was definitely the Eagles, or one of the Eagles doing a solo thing. The song was kind of coincidental, really, considering his walk. 

_Lying in bed, I hear the sirens wail / Somebody's going to emergency, somebody's going to jail / You find somebody you love in this world, you'd better hang on tooth and nail...._

Brian grabbed the piece of paper and held it above him to read it. The next song was "Sweet Home Alabama," then Will Smith's "Miami," then "New Orleans is Sinking." They were all songs about places the group was going to travel or had traveled. That was kind of clever. They were older songs, too. Some were classic rock, which was a little surprising. 

Brian figured that before, he would have known Nick was into classic rock. But he didn't. Not now. 

He lay there listening until his eyelids got heavy, and his breathing became deep and rhythmic, and he knew he was falling asleep. 

_I got my hands in the river, my feet back up on the banks / I looked up to the Lord above and said 'hey, man, thanks...'_

*** 

There was no good reason why he should still be dreaming about Nick. But he did. Nick dreams came at the rate of about twice a week. Sometimes they were sexual, where Nick was kissing him or rubbing against him. They never contained actual sex, but they were so erotic that they might as well. Sometimes the dream would be about something that had nothing to do with Nick, but Nick would be there, as a background character, saying something or smiling or laughing. And it didn't matter which kind of dream it was. They both hurt equally. Considering the actual sexual experience with Nick was a couple of months old, Brian thought it would be over by now. But he supposed that two months wasn't very long to unravel something that had taken eight years to build. 

It happened on Nick's birthday, when he was 21, and Brian did something out of character. He got drunk. It didn't take much, really. By the time they were on the fourth round of drinks, Brian's world was spinning, and Nick and Howie and AJ were just getting started. He kept it together. He could go to the washrooms without stumbling, and talk without slurring his speech too badly. By the time they left the bar, Howie and AJ were falling against each other and giggling over some joke only they understood. Kevin expressed concern that the hotel wouldn't let Kristin through the switchboard when she called, and Howie blurted, "Just tell her to tell them that she's Kristin Richardson's wife." AJ laughed so suddenly at Howie's mistake that he snorted. Brian hated to see Howie or AJ like that, but it was nothing compared to how it felt to see Nick stumbling. Thankfully, Nick didn't seem to be too drunk, and Brian was tipsy, too, so it took the edge off. And Kevin never worried him. Kevin could take care of himself. 

They rode the elevator telling stupid jokes, and AJ got Nick in a headlock and noogied him. When they got to their floor, AJ tripped over the little indent that separated the floor from the elevator and Howie seemed to think it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Kevin called them children and led the way down the hallway, stopping to watch AJ and Howie spill into Howie's room. 

Brian walked behind Kevin, watching Kevin's lean body take long, easy steps to his own door. "Night," Brian said, more cheerful than usual, and Kevin went inside. 

Nick poked Brian in the stomach. "I'm not tired yet. Are you?" 

Brian shrugged. "Not really. Wanna hang out?" 

"Yeah." 

Hanging out was becoming more of a rarity now that Nick went clubbing and Brian had a wife, so Brian wasn't about to turn it down. There was nothing in the world that could match sitting around with Nick, laughing about stuff they'd done or the other guys. So when Brian led the way into his room and Nick landed on the bed next to him, Brian's mood lifted three more notches. 

Nick lay back on the bed, gravity causing his hair to fall out of his face. Brian looked down at him and watched Nick's eyelids slip into a half closed position, sparkling blue peeking out from underneath them. Nick looked at him and smiled. Not a silly smile, and not a drunken smile, but a pure, simple smile. Brian couldn't help but smile back. 

"I'm lazy," Nick explained, raising his arms above his head. Brian sat up for a second, noticing how the room looked slightly different after a few drinks. The colors seemed dimmer, and everything had a softer edge. It was hard to put into words. 

He fell back and lay next to Nick, looking at the ceiling and laughing a little, just because he felt like laughing. Nick rolled onto his side and propped himself up using his elbow. "Can I see your scar?" 

Brian ran a lazy hand across his own stomach, liking the way it felt. "You've seen my scar." 

"Yeah, but I've never, like, really looked at it." 

Brian shrugged. "Okay." He yanked his T-shirt up as far as he could, until the cotton was resting against his chin and his stomach and chest were exposed. The air was kind of cool, and he thought he could feel Nick's eyes, as if Nick's gaze were a touch. 

Nick leaned closer, brow furrowing. Brian couldn't help but wonder what was so fascinating. He'd lived with it day in and day out since his surgery. It was just another thing about his body now. 

Nick's hand inched closer to Brian's chest, hovering there, moving ever so slightly before the tip of his index finger rested on the end of the scar tissue. Most people pretended the scar wasn't even there, or winced when they saw it because it represented something huge. Heart surgery. Possible death. But no one had ever touched it other than Leighanne, and he couldn't help but suck in a breath when he felt the warmth of Nick's finger. 

Nick traced along the gentle ridge, up past Brian's nipple and in the direction his collar bone. An uncontrollable shiver raced up Brian's spine, and Brian knew that Nick had to notice it. Nick got to the top of the scar and traced back down again, all the way to the bottom, his eyes never leaving it. Brian felt something different about this moment. Something new. But he couldn't put his finger on it. 

Nick moved a little closer, head lowering, strands of hair getting dangerously close to brushing against Brian's chest. Brian figured Nick was just examining it closely, but then Nick moved even lower and Brian held his breath. 

Nick's lips pressed lightly against the scar, soft and breathy and causing another shudder from Brian. Then he pressed harder, moving his lips up the unsteady line. Brian could smell Nick's shampoo. It smelled like vanilla. 

Nick reached the top and raised his head, looking at Brian with wide blue eyes. Their faces were so close now, and Brian was still holding his breath. 

Nick's lips came without warning, pressing gently against Brian's in a kiss so soft that they barely touched. Brian closed his eyes, feeling his heart pounding a hard bass rhythm. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything other than lay there feeling Nick's soft lips, his sweet mouth, his warm breath. 

Their lips pressed together harder, into a full-on kiss, and Brian felt his mouth open and his jaw move in time with Nick's. And then there was soft, wet tongue gently pushing into Brian's mouth. Nick seemed to inhale sharply, like someone had just hit one of his erogenous zones. 

Brian rested his hand on the back of Nick's neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened and became something entirely different. From testing the waters to knowing exactly what they were doing. It seemed so natural, like Brian had just discovered the answer to a complicated math problem, or awakened in the middle of the night to remember a song title he couldn't place for days. And it didn't seem weird that he was kissing Nick. Feeling the body leaning against his that he'd felt a thousand times before, and hearing the breathing that he'd heard on a dozen tour busses and countless shared hotel rooms, he couldn't figure out why they hadn't done it before. Nick was his best friend, and sometimes the feeling was so strong that he wasn't sure where to put it. He wanted to shout from the roof how much he loved his best friend. And now, finally, he'd found something to do with that energy. 

He felt Nick's hands slide across his back, Nick's strong arms pull him closer and hold him tightly. Brian wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders, fingers massaging the muscles there, loving the way Nick's body felt under his palms. Nick rolled on top of him a little more, pushing their bodies closer to the centre of the bed, and there was just kiss and tongue and heavy breathing. 

The kiss broke for a second, and Brian looked into those amazing eyes. The eyes he'd looked at so many times, but never quite like then. And he said the only thing he could think of to say. "I love you." 

It was ridiculous, really. The words "I love you" were for long-term girlfriends, and people you committed yourself to with your body and soul. He and Nick had exchanged those words roughly once a week since they'd known each other, because they all did. "I love you, buddy" was a common phrase. But saying it like that, under those circumstances, made Brian's heart skip and his brain scramble to wonder if he should have said them at all. 

But Nick said, "I love you, too. So much. You have no idea." It ended with a kiss that was even deeper and harder. Brian's brain was swirling too much to keep up with what it might mean, or what it might change. He just wanted this taste, this chance, even if he'd have to die when it was over. 

He ran his fingers through Nick's hair, feeling the soft strands drift between his fingers and land again. Nick shifted his weight until he was completely on top of him, and Brian felt Nick's insistent hips, Nick's erection rub against his. He arched his back suddenly, making the kind of noise he'd never heard himself make, and Nick mumbled in response. 

Nick's hips moved against him, causing a beautiful friction that Brian couldn't help but move against, his whole body grinding against Nick's. Nick held him even tighter, kissing him even harder, moving against him like he might if he were making love to a woman and trying to make her come. 

Brian squeezed his eyes shut and his gasp seemed to ring through the otherwise silent room. His thrusts became more frantic, more hurried, and Nick's became more frantic in response. He was so hard now that he could barely stand it. He wanted to be touched - not just there, but everywhere. And he wanted Nick to do it. 

The material of their clothes rubbing together made a subtle, pleasant sound, their breathing coming harder and faster. Brian felt orgasm start somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard. "Nick..." 

Nick made a quiet noise that sounded like "ssshhh" and kept moving his hips at the same maddening pace. 

Brian dug his fingertips into Nick's back. "Nick, if you don't stop, I'm gonna...." 

Nick lowered his head and buried his face in Brian's neck, lips brushing across his skin and landing in a kiss at the curve of skin where Brian's shoulder started. Nick shuddered, and just the feeling of it under his hands made Brian whimper. He pressed his head back against the mattress, gripping Nick for support, and saw splashes of color against his eyelids when he came. 

Nick fingers dug into Brian's shoulders, hips moving one more time before he froze, shaking a little, and Brian realized that Nick was coming, too. He held Nick tightly, kissing his forehead, whispering even though he wasn't even sure what he was saying. He loved this moment of vulnerability, of seeing Nick out of control and trembling in his arms. His little brother. His best friend. 

Nick propped himself up on his elbows and kissed Brian quickly before he rolled off and sat up. Brian lay there, trying to catch his breath, watching Nick scratch his head and then climb off the bed. 

Nick turned in a slow circle and took a step toward the door. Brian propped himself up and frowned. "Are you _leaving_?" 

"Um, yeah." Nick's voice sounded a little shaky. 

"Why? Stay. I mean...." 

Nick took a deep breath, eyes on the door. "I can't, Brian. I can't take this." 

Brian hadn't had much energy before that, but now he bolted into a sitting position. "What are you talking about?" 

"You. I just...too much is wrong with this." Two more steps and Nick was at the door, hand on the doorknob. 

Brian leapt off the bed before he had a chance to think about it, grabbing blindly in Nick's direction. "No! Don't. It's okay." 

"It's not. I'm sorry I did that. It's just...let's forget about it. Please?" Nick focused on the wall in front of him, eyes down, hand resting uneasily on the doorknob. "Let's forget about it. Can we forget about it?" 

Nick looked at Brian for a split second, long enough to see that Brian wasn't ticked off, and then yanked the door open. Just seeing the hallway was like a gasp of reality, and by the time the door swung shut, Nick was out of sight. 

Brian spent the next week watching Nick avoid him like the plague, veering out of the way when Brian walked by, afraid to make eye contact. Brian tried to corner Nick in his room, but Nick made some excuse about having to go and practically knocked Brian over in his rush for the door. And it took about a week for Brian to realize that Nick really did want to forget about it. Whatever it was that had happened, and whatever it meant, Nick wanted it to be over. A one-time thing. A fluke. 

Brian figured he could handle the rejection. He was learning to, bit by bit, situation by situation. But he couldn't forget about it no matter how hard he tried. 

*** 

They left New York not a minute too soon. Brian sat alone on his bus, a USA Today resting in his lap. He'd meant to read it but couldn't focus on the words. His cell phone sat next to him, still warm from talking to Leighanne. He watched the scenery pass. New York state was generic and boring to look at, but it was better than New York City. 

They pulled into a rest stop along one of the interstates. Experience had taught them that occasionally they just needed to get off for a few minutes. To stop moving, to walk around in the fresh air and not be trapped in an enclosed space. Brian leaned his head against the window, watching the other guys leap from their busses and inhale the new air. 

Howie came onto Brian's bus without knocking, standing in the middle of the room with a smile. "Coming out?" 

"I don't know." 

"You might as well. Nicky's picking up someone here." 

Brian watched the breeze blow stray strands of Nick's hair, his windbreaker jiggling a little when a new gust came along. "Who's he picking up?" 

"Some new girlfriend." 

Brian swallowed hard, forcing the most convincing smile he could, because whenever he wasn't smiling, someone asked him what was wrong. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Some college student. Or stripper. Maybe both. I can't remember." 

And sure enough, a blonde girl bounced across the parking lot. She was small and slender and as pretty as any girl Nick had ever dated. Brian tried not to watch her give Nick a big hug and wrap her arms around those broad shoulders, but it was like a train wreck. He couldn't look away. It was almost like he needed the pain. 

He didn't expect them to kiss, so when it happened, he wasn't prepared for the tears that picked at his eyelids, threatening to spill and give away everything. He didn't think Howie saw them, especially since Brian was facing the window as much as possible. 

Howie walked over and knelt on the couch next to Brian, resting his arms on the back of it and looking out at Nick. "He always goes for the blondes." 

"Yeah." Brian gulped. Tried to keep it together. He felt Howie look over, and those wide, dark eyes land on him. He couldn't look back. Couldn't say anything. It was best to just sit there quietly. 

Howie's fingers drifted across Brian's head, slowly and gently like they were meant to be soothing. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." It was hard to make his voice bright. He hoped he was managing it. 

Howie's hand moved back to the top of Brian's head, and the fingers ran through his hair again. "You miss Leighanne?" 

That was a perfect excuse, and Howie had just handed it to him, so Brian nodded. 

"You'll see her soon." Howie climbed off the couch and headed for the door, full of energy now that they'd stopped. "Come on. We're going into the store for a few minutes. You can't stay on here." 

Brian nodded, and soon saw Howie on the other side of the window, hair blowing wildly in the wind as he followed AJ across the lot. Brian didn't go with them, and no one seemed to notice. 

***

Brian expected Nick and his girlfriend to have sex that night. He was even prepared to hear it if he walked by the door at the right time. What he didn't expect was for it to involve more than one person. 

He knew it did, because he saw a good looking guy with strong arms go into Nick's room. The guy was blond and blue eyed and gorgeous by anyone's standards. Brian spotted him when he was heading down the hallway for ice. He nodded cordially at the guy, because he always tried to be polite. But when he turned and saw Nick's girlfriend answer the door and let the guy in, Brian wanted to kill him. 

He headed down the hall a little later, telling himself that he was just going to the Coke machine. But he knew it was another train wreck thing. He slowed near Nick's door and eventually stopped, telling himself that it was human nature to be curious about other people having sex. 

But when he heard something, there was an unexpected stab of pain in his heart, and he turned and fumbled back to his room, barely making it through the door before the tears started. He didn't even know that guy. He hadn't even been introduced to the girl. When Nick was his best friend, Brian would have been the first one to meet her. 

He sat on the bed, curling his legs to his chest, forehead resting on his knees. If he just cried this out, maybe it would be over. If he cried as long and as hard as he possibly could, maybe he could get it out of his system. 

But by now, he knew better. 

He lay awake for longer than he should have, then panicked because it was getting late and the panic kept him from sleeping. He watched the numbers of the alarm clock change, and listened to the occasional mumble of people in the hallway. He let his fingertips drift across his stomach, across his scar and all the way up to his neck, then massaged his own shoulder and let his hand drop again. It had been too long since someone had touched him. At least someone that mattered. 

He thought about the kid on the basketball court again, and if he'd gotten any baskets since then. He wondered why he even cared, or why he'd remembered the kid in the first place. Whatever it was, just thinking about it made him drift off. He prayed for nice dreams. 

***

The girl left two days later and Nick was alone again. Brian wondered what Nick did when he was alone. Why he didn't come to Brian's room like he used to. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at himself, wondering if it was possible to feel Nick's presence on the other side of the wall. Some sort of vibe. Radiation. Connection. 

Brian could just go over there and say hi, right? He didn't need a reason or an excuse. They were still friends. 

He walked quickly to Nick's door, because if he took his time he'd lose his nerve. He knocked once, fully prepared to turn around and walk away if Nick didn't answer immediately. But the door opened and Nick peered around it. "Hey." 

"Hey. Can I come in?" 

"Sure." Nick unchained the safety lock and opened the door all the way, letting Brian step past him before he shut it. "What's up?" 

"I just thought maybe...we could hang out." 

Nick inhaled sharply, eyes darting to the side, hands coming together so Nick could pick his fingernails. "I'm kind of...it's not really...." 

"Why not?" He wasn't sure where this new surge of aggressiveness was coming from. Maybe it was because it was one of the only times he'd had Nick alone since his birthday. Maybe it was because Nick didn't need this friendship anymore, and Brian did, but Nick was too blind to realize it. Either way, just coming out with it lifted a little of the weight off his heart. At least they were talking. At least he had Nick alone in his room, where Nick couldn't escape. "We haven't hung out since..." 

"My birthday. I know." It was obvious that Nick couldn't look at him. He was fidgeting, and awkward, and Brian felt a twitch of annoyance. 

"Yeah. Why not?" 

"Because..." Another deep inhale. Nick scratched his head. Pursed his lips. All the usual deep thinking signs. "Look, I shouldn't have told you how I felt and...you're happy...." 

Something inside Brian broke. He wasn't sure what it was. His heart? His patience? His sanity? Whatever it was, it made it to his vocal chords, because his voice came out louder than he wanted it to, and more shrill. "I am _not happy_!" 

With the yell came unexpected tears, little thick drops that hovered on the edges of his eyelids. Nick flinched a little, probably from the tone of voice. Brian couldn't remember the last time he'd yelled at anyone. This just seemed too important not to get through. In the old days, Nick would have known what was bothering him. But he didn't. He didn't have a clue. 

There was a long pause, and Nick didn't say anything. Nothing bad or good. Nothing strong or weak. Brian was pretty sure that when Nick did speak, it wasn't going to be to tell Brian to stay, so he headed past Nick to the door. 

"Look," he said when his hand had twisted the doorknob. "I'm not gonna keep coming back, okay? When you want me, you know where I am." 

When he got back to his room, he felt drained, and a little shaky, like he'd just woken up from an anesthetic. He crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin, curling into as much of a ball as he could manage. And his last thought before he finally drifted to sleep, after he whispered a prayer to God, was that he was in mourning. The death of a friendship. He had no idea it would be so hard. 

*** 

The tour continued, and the months wore on, and Nick didn't come to hang out with him. Nick went out to clubs with AJ and Howie, and stayed in his room doing whatever it was he did by himself. The girlfriend drifted in and out of their lives, smiling brightly at them one day and gone the next. Brian phoned Leighanne, trying to find comfort in her voice. Trying to forget that he'd ever had a best friend. Leighanne was his new one. Sure, she didn't play Nintendo or shoot hoops, but he could live with what he was left with. She loved him, and he made that enough. 

They went back to New York in July. It was another TRL appearance, but this one was different. This one was to tell the world that there were low points to being a Backstreet Boy. That one of them drank too much. That they couldn't always handle the pressure, and one of them had finally cracked. 

The air was warmer, but the city still felt cold, and when they arrived at 5 a.m., Brian went walking again. 

The bodyguard wore the same dark shades, except his heavy jacket was replaced with a windbreaker. The air was slightly chilly at that hour, and the sun was just starting to show itself behind the thick cloud of smog. They walked past the liquor store, and the camera place, and the other liquor store, and Brian took the same side street. 

The city looked a lot different when it was waking up from when it was going to bed. There was the quiet song of birds chirping, and a light gray haze over the fronts of the homes. The basketball court was silent, and Brian sat down on the same bench, hugging his jacket to his body, crossing his ankles and stretching out. 

The pavement was still chipped. The trees around it still looked lonely and sick. But the hoop had been replaced with a new one, painted orange and standing out against the rotting backboard like a beacon. He wondered if the kids had even noticed the new hoop, or if they'd just kept on playing the way they always had, not really caring either way. 

The bodyguard milled around behind him, feet shuffling on the sidewalk. Brian heard a branch being pulled and snapping back, and knew the bodyguard had picked off one of the leaves to tear into strips. He always did that, and it made Brian smile a little, to see such a big and intimidating guy doing something that Brian had done when he was a kid. 

He slouched even more, stretching out his legs and resting his head on the back of the bench. He stared at the sky, wondering if there was a word to accurately describe that color. The color of the world waking up, the sun climbing into its spot, the view that New York City residents saw every morning. He wondered how they were going to manage this appearance without crying, or looking stupid. He wondered if there would be sympathy or outrage. Disgust or affection. Their fans were pretty loyal, but it was impossible to judge these things. 

He sensed someone in front of him and raised his head slowly, knowing that if it was someone who presented a threat, the bodyguard would chase them away. But it wasn't someone threatening. It was Nick. 

Brian pulled his legs in and sat up quickly. "Hey." 

"Hey." Nick rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand. They looked red and swollen, like he'd just come from a long night of crying. Nick tried to smile a little but a fresh tear slipped down his cheek, and when that one broke the barrier, more followed it. 

Nick. Needing help. Needing a friend. Brian expected a rush of emotions to come with it. A rush of anger and pain and relief. But he didn't feel any of them. He just patted the bench. "Sit down." 

Nick sat down and rested perfectly into Brian's outstretched arms, burying his face in Brian's neck. His arms wrapped around Brian's waist, and his body jerked a little from the quiet sobs. Brian held him as tightly as he could, his hand petting Nick's head. It had been awhile, but he knew how to do this. He knew it like he knew his cue in the songs, and his dance steps, and every other thing he'd done over and over since he'd met Nick. 

Nick rested his forehead on Brian's shoulder and mumbled against his jacket. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry. This is hard for all of us. You don't have to be sorry about crying." 

He felt Nick's hand move across his back, then his fingers grip Brian's jacket. "Not about that. I mean about...." 

Brian couldn't blame Nick for his voice trailing off. He wasn't sure how to describe it, either. But it made his heart swell. This was okay. This was cool. He wasn't going to let himself worry about how long this neediness would last. There was only this moment. This chance. He rubbed Nick's back with the palm of his hand, feeling Nick's bangs tickling at his neck. "It's okay, Nicky. Really." 

Nick sighed deeply and pulled away a little, running his hand under his eyes again, making new splotches of red on his skin. Brian let himself lean back against the bench, arm still around Nick, giving Nick room to lean against him and rest his head on Brian's shoulder. 

They sat there for a few quiet moments, huddled together, Brian giving Nick a quick squeeze and then stretching out his legs. He looked out at the court, knowing Nick was doing the same thing. 

"We should play b-ball sometime," Nick mumbled. "I kind of miss it." 

"Yeah," Brian said slowly. "Me too." 

Those were the last words they spoke for a long while. And it didn't even matter that it was New York City. It was just the pleasure of watching the dawn breaking, and sitting on a comfortable bench with his best friend. 


End file.
